Between us
by beautiful-sadness
Summary: [One-shot]. The melody dies, becoming whispers. Just a humming between my vocal chords; at the feeling of your kisses in my neck; while you push me against the wall. While I die, one time more. Taito.


The present fic is Taito, so you're warned before you read. I hope you like it, even when I think it doesn't have any plot.

**Note**: Keep in mind this fic is translated to English, therefore can be grammatical errors, misspellings and that sort of things. So, if you have a comment, suggestion or advice, please feel free to do it. I'll appreciate it and make the corresponding corrections. Thanks!

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, as usual.

**Between us.**

"Yamato..." I gently call you, without obtain any result; even though, knowing you, I already expect that.

So, I conform myself watching you, from the door frame. I observe you, completely concentrate, abstracted. Your blonde locks gracefully fell over your face, impeding me to see your gaze at all. That and that you have your big sapphires almost closed, like always when you write. In the same way, you frown nearly imperceptibly while playing with the pen between your fingers. There is no point in telling you but that simple act makes me lose my head.

"Yama..." You sigh, without notice it. The paper in front of you is full of scrawls and doodles with a couple of crossed-out words. I approach to you and take it in my hands, obtaining your attention, at least for seconds. "I'm sorry to tell you, but you write horrible".

And... you look at me. Slightly surprised, with your eyebrows hardly raised, but I know you so well that maybe you're thinking how long I've been there, watching you. Don't worry, barely enough. The needed time to record one scene more to my private collection.

"Leave it, Tai" You take away the paper from my hands, but is too late, I could decipher a few words. Then, your gaze soften a little, its brightness changes, it explodes. That's your unusual way to smile; you don't do it often enough with your lips but your eyes can't hide it. "It's not finished".

So, that's it. You go back to your work and I, felling a little jealous, put my hands on your shoulders. I press and move. Touching and crossing your upper back, in movements pretending to be casuals but at the same time relaxing. Come on, it's seems like you haven't slept in centuries.

"Tai".

"Mmmm".

"You're distracting me, Tai" You say, using that tone that seems to be indecipherable.

Anyone could take that as a criticism. Maybe as a request to stop my hands, to leave you alone and go away, before you get mad. But, and there is the mistake, I'm not anyone, Yamato. I guess you already know that. Therefore, on the contrary, I keep putting pressure on your muscles. The right hand, then the left one. Both, back and forth, trying to loosen the knots in your body. The pen slowly downs and stays, quiet, on the paper.

Subtle.

My right hand turns on an invisible switch when pass from the back to the neck. And ups, until the hairline that makes me crazy, your vulnerable spot. I can feel how your skin crawls to my touch. You should see my smile in this moments, having you at my mercy.

The notes are converted, one by one, in music. Music between my fingers. The music, getting out, in its purest form, of your throat. You sing. For me. And for no one else. Sing. The letters leaves the paper with an unusual ease, getting life in your lips.

And I melt, just like in the first kiss, felling the resonance in your mouth. In your body, in your gaze. That resonance, crashing against me, outraging my senses, accelerating my pulse more than any soccer game or competition, trivial now. Trivial, if you're not at my side, if you don't sing to me. Sing.

**o.O.o.O.o**

"Sing, Yamato" I still remember my own voice, when I arrived to the dressing room. Late, again; even when in this occasion I had a reasonable justification and I could let you know in advance.

"Taichi" Your glance froze me, between overwhelming, resentful and mad. Disappointed, maybe. But, even then, its smile at me. And I understood, understood that you were worried about me. "You came". Relief.

"For nothing in the world I could miss my best friend biggest concert" I knew what that implied for your career, I knew what was on the field and you knew, more than anyone, the desire I had to could see you. Or, at least, I hoped so. You should knew it. "Sing".

"Koushiro recorded it" You said, turning your back at me. Again with that indecipherable tone. Again Yamato. "But..."

And it happens, you took the bass and sit down. You closed your eyes and the music started to vibrate. It vibrated in the air, between us. Vibrated in me, stronger than ever. The words left your lips, harmonically. Your hands travelled erotically, seducing the strings; making them moan. You was singing, singing for me.

I can't forget the feeling of desperation that invaded me, terribly pleasant and guilty at the same time. Yes, I plead guilty, of lost myself between your chords, of identify me like another piece. O even, a note, wishing to be written in your skin. Played by your fingers, drowned in your mouth. A note, a word in the lips, resounding.

The watch in my wrist kept going, the movements of the hands betraying it; but, for me, the time had lost its meaning. I stood there, watching while you left the bass in its case and, slightly embarrassed, stopped in front of me. I saw you. For the very first time, I could observed all your secrets. I observed your glance smile and the end of your lips curl up. Your fingers, unconsciously moving, almost touching your leg; at the constant rhythm of a imaginary song. I listened it, in your blonde hair, in your closeness. I listened it too, inside of me. I saw you. I really did, for the first time.

I closed my eyes. One step forward and it was done, that was all. It happened. Maybe not romantically, maybe not like the movies. Come on, I didn't even hug you, or take your hand between mines. It was a clean, quick and dry kiss. But honest and simple, like me.

One brush, pale cheeks instantly flushed and suggestive sapphires. I waited a little for a hit that never came, no reprisal, no complaint. Nothing, except a mouth opened for me, not to kiss, but to give me something more. Aire.

"Taichi".

The rest was history. Afternoons came, afternoon went. Winter, spring, summer colors and autumn homesick. The time passed, languidly by your side, terrible relatively under you, hopelessly slowly without you. Your beat, rhythmical and gentle, simply put it behind. My joy and easiness made blurry its perception. I knew you, transparent and naive, under the rain evocated by a song.

**o.O.o.O.o**

The resonance collapses my lungs, vibrating like the glass that sees them burn in the drug that you are. You're drug, that destroys; but air that slows my pace. That breeze that refreshes me, when I find myself drowned. When I arrive and contemplate you, touching with your fingertips the paper sheets. Thinking.

You sink your phalanges in my hair, much shorter than before. The feeling, invariably is the same. The adrenaline, the joy, the emotions that overflow with every single button of your shirt.

The melody dies, becoming whispers. Just a humming between my vocal chords; at the feeling of your kisses in my neck; while you push me against the wall. While I die, one time more.

"Taichi" I love that, when you say it complete. When you say it in that unique tone, that I can't finish to understand; but that says so much yet. "They called me, Taichi".

I bite, just a little under your jaw. Your hands tight and resist, but your glance tells other thing; in the end we both know what's going to happen. I bite and you say not word, a moment only; that time is short and imprisons. The time cuts in fragments the melody.

**o.O.o.O.o**

"I have to go" You said in a whisper in my ear, still trapped in my arms. "Tai..."

I let you go. Like so many times before, leaving you in freedom... temporally, of course. The reality is that, like you, I needed a boat where I can sail, I needed to extend my wings and fly. But also, a reference point, that lighthouse showing me how to come back. My road. Your voice.

You left me, with the bag at your shoulder and the leather jacket that I gave you. I went with you to the airport to say goodbye and I sank my head in your shoulder while I hugged you, in front of the plane. No tears, in the end you always came back to me. Because I was your lighthouse too. You always came back, and you always will too.

"I'll be back" You said, letting me go. That time, the first you went for awhile, I couldn't say a word. The second, I nodded. The third, I smiled and, looking at you, I knew that everything was going to be fine, because you were really staying with me.

"Sing, Yamato" And every time, every single time, when you came back, that was the first phrase getting out of my lips. Every night in loneliness, your melody called my dream and sheltered it. It was look at you in every shinny point in the sky, it was desperately waiting the pass of the time. It was taking you in the beat of the song that made company to your departure.

And you sang.

**o.O.o.O.o**

The time passes, languid.

The time passes and even though, the feeling remains, constantly. Maybe stronger, maybe more alive. The time passes and the ties grow, the histories travel and the kisses come back. You leave and you come back, I wait and I listen to you. I kiss you and you love me. So simple, so vibrant.

And you sing.

You sing, in my ear, inside of me. You sing. Your voice trembles, at my heartbeat rhythm; born in every note in your lips, dying in my skin. You sing, and I write, words, letters, scrawls. Scrawls that are lost in your hips nooks, between your hairs, in your eyes, in your being.

Your voice resound in my kisses, reaffirming that exists between us. Your eyes smile, your lips curl. What comes next...

**o.O.o.O.o.O.o**

So, that's all.

I hope you enjoyed it!

If that's the case (or not) you can leave a review.

Thanks for reading.


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